


Types, re: Breaking Them

by out_there



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s common knowledge that Blaine Anderson is only the Editor-in-Chief because he went to boarding school with the current CEO.  Blaine’s quiet and conservative, and Kurt doesn’t approve of his dress sense – every suit he wears into the office is navy, black or charcoal – but he approves of his Armani-wearing boyfriend even less.  An Armani suit is designed to be noticed, it’s attention-grabbing while playing it safe, and Kurt’s never admired anyone who chose the safe option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Types, re: Breaking Them

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://kmousie.livejournal.com/profile)[**kmousie**](http://kmousie.livejournal.com/) for such a speedy beta! For those curious about the fashions mentioned:
> 
> [The plaid wool suit that Blaine first admires](http://www.mrporter.com/product/180658)
> 
> [The Etro jacket that Kurt wears](http://www.mrporter.com/product/196223)
> 
> [The Bengal stripe shirt that Blaine wears](http://www.theiconic.com.au/Bengal-Stripe-52044.html)  
>  (Tell me that wouldn’t look fantastic matched to a bright green bowtie and steady navy suit?)

Blaine Anderson isn’t Kurt’s type at all. Kurt likes tall guys with broad shoulders, athletic types with down-to-earth, uncomplicated attitudes. Blaine Anderson is the opposite of that. He isn’t tall, his shoulders aren’t particularly broad and everything about him is conservative and restrained. Every suit he wears into the office is navy, black or charcoal and the most adventurous he’s ever been is a light grey linen suit last summer. He says “Good morning” to everyone and signs every email with “Regards”.

It’s common knowledge that Blaine Anderson is only the Editor-in-Chief because he went to boarding school with the current CEO. So Kurt’s boss’s boss is both younger than Kurt and got the job without any of the long hours for minimum wage that Kurt had to do. Not that nepotism and obnoxious levels of privilege are particularly unusual in the media industry, as Kurt well knows.

Kurt has plenty of reasons to dislike him but, like most of the staff at _Chic_ , he doesn’t. Blaine is surprisingly charismatic and eager to listen to everyone’s opinions. Blaine is overly formal, but he remembers everyone’s first name and his office light is always the last one burning at night. He lets his staff have a reasonable amount of freedom and has never indulged in the humiliating tirades of his predecessor.

Those are the reasons everyone else likes Blaine. Kurt falls for his charms late on a Wednesday night, when he comes back from a bathroom break to find Blaine Anderson, Editor-in-Chief, standing in the middle of his wardrobe and feeling up the Bottega Veneta plaid wool suit for Friday’s photo shoot.

“I thought I was the last one here,” Blaine says, pulling his hand back and burying his hands in the pockets of his Brooks Brothers suit. “I wanted to see the detailing on it while we had it.”

“I would have picked you as more of a Polo Ralph Lauren type,” Kurt says sharply, biting his tongue not to chide someone who could fire both himself and his boss. Everyone else knows not to cross through the doorway of the magazine’s wardrobe collection without Kurt’s approval. They don’t stay away out of concern for the clothes. That sort of respect is borne from fear.

“I’m more Ralph Lauren than Etro,” Blaine agrees easily, surprising Kurt. He wouldn’t have expected someone who dresses in the most traditional of American silhouettes to even know Etro’s flair and innovation in men’s suits.

***

Blaine’s a sixteen-year-old gay boy in Ohio. He’s not entirely sure he has a type other than ‘sixteen-year-old gay boy in Ohio’ and to be honest, he’s not that fussy on the sixteen-year-old part. He’s never had enough choice to make comparisons. He’s not convinced Sebastian Smythe is his type, but Sebastian is the first and only boy to ask him out. Blaine figures there’s no harm in agreeing. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that.

It’s not that Blaine has anything against Sebastian, per se. Sebastian’s a new transfer, and he’s made friends easily amongst the Warblers. He’s worldly and tells fantastic stories about living in Paris. He’s a talented and ambitious performer. In fact, the reason they first went out for coffee was because Sebastian wanted tips for the upcoming solo auditions and Blaine’s always believed in giving help to those who ask.

And Sebastian’s kind of hot, especially the way he catches Blaine’s eyes in rehearsals and smiles as if he knows a secret. Sometimes that smile feels as if Sebastian can see right through him, as if he’s imagining what Blaine looks like beneath his blazer, and Blaine has to look away before he blushes and forgets the choreography he’s supposed to know by heart.

But over coffee, Sebastian calls him hot, which is another first, and then invites him out to a gay bar a few towns over. Blaine doesn’t know what to say to the compliment, so he explains that they’re under eighteen so they won’t get in, let alone be served. Sebastian laughs and says he’ll bring the fake IDs like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

The bar turns out to be a great place. Sebastian introduces Blaine to the wonder of shots, taking relish in ordering Cocksucking Cowboys, and they spend most of the night on the dance floor. They even practice some of the _Uptown Girl_ choreography. By the end of the night, they’re so in sync they can do the steps even with Sebastian standing right behind Blaine, his chest to Blaine’s back, his arm warm and solid around Blaine’s waist.

It’s kind of the best night ever, and Blaine says as much as they walk back to Sebastian’s car.

In the parking lot outside, Sebastian presses Blaine right up against the side of his two year old Porsche Boxster. He steps in close, thigh to thigh, arms leaning against the car and bracketing Blaine’s shoulders, and just as Blaine wonders if he’s supposed to say something or do something, Sebastian kisses him.

It really is the best night ever.

***

Kurt wouldn’t say that he’s friends with Blaine Anderson. He’s more of an acquaintance, someone he sees at work and nods to in the elevator. Occasionally, Blaine stops by the wardrobe department late at night, and they’ll share a passing conversation about upcoming photo shoots or the next designer delivery expected. But they’re hardly friends.

Kurt doesn’t even realise Blaine’s gay until the annual Christmas party, and that’s a fairly basic thing that friends would know.

In Kurt’s defence, the fashion industry is mostly fashionista drama queens (boys and girls) or sleazy, opportunistic photographers trying to sleep with models (again, both boys and girls). He’s used to spotting queer boys by the fabulous shoes and the squeals of “Oh! My! God!” when the latest season gets released. Blaine’s quiet and conservative, and Kurt had assumed there was a future Mrs. Anderson tucked away somewhere.

Instead, there’s Sebastian wearing a black Armani suit with the level of sheen designed to draw attention. Kurt’s never met a man who wore Armani without wanting to be noticed for it. It’s attention-grabbing while playing it safe, it’s pretending to wear a simple, black suit while wanting everyone around you to instantly recognise the high lapels and low shoulders and know how much it’s worth. Kurt can admire the successful brand marketing, but he’s never admired anyone who chose the safe option.

“Let me guess,” Sebastian says, after Blaine introduces Kurt to ‘his partner’ and while they’re not touching or standing too close, there’s something too familiar there for Blaine to mean business partner, “you work in the fashion section.”

“Wardrobe, actually.”

Sebastian looks Kurt up and down, and his face narrows into a nasty smirk. “I should have known from the outfit.”

There’s a flash of expression across Blaine’s face, a disapproving frown directed at Sebastian, followed quickly by an apologetic smile at Kurt. “Isn’t that the Etro blazer from 2014?”

“2012, actually,” Kurt corrects, showing off his outfit with a flourish of his arm. He’s paired the unassuming purple corduroy jacket with narrow fitted Alexander McQueen indigo pants, a pinstriped green shirt and paisley patterned scarf in emerald and purples. It’s a nod to the bold colours of this season and the rich tones seen in past Etro collections, textures and patterns layered together to create indulgent, luxurious outfits. The best thing about working for a fashion magazine’s wardrobe department is access to amazing clothes of yesteryear, if he’s willing to wade through to the back of the storage rooms.

“Kurt and I have been discussing Etro’s sensibilities,” Blaine says to Sebastian.

“Well, I’m sure there are more pointless conversations you could be having at this magazine.” Sebastian swirls the brandy in his glass for a moment, and then adds, “I’m not sure what they’d be, but I’m sure they exist.”

***

As much as Blaine looks for it, Sebastian’s behaviour doesn’t change. At class, in the hallways and at rehearsals, Sebastian still smiles, but he doesn’t lean in or try to hold Blaine’s hand. He walks beside Blaine like any of his other friends.

They talk about the Latin test coming up, and Blaine confesses that he doesn’t think he’ll do any better than a B. They discuss the Warblers chances this year, and Sebastian is full of bravado and certainty that they’ll at least get to Nationals. As far as Blaine knows, the last time they got to Nationals was 1993 when boy bands were at the peak of popularity. They’ll be celebrated in the Dalton hallways if they only make it to Regionals.

But they don’t talk about dating or being boyfriends. Sebastian made a joke about being hung over the next morning, but he hasn’t mentioned it since. Blaine guesses he misread a signal or two. He thought the night had gone well, even if Sebastian’s hands had started to wander a lot as they kissed, even if he’d had to tug Sebastian’s wrists to the safer, less complicated areas.

That might have been the faux pas. As a teenage boy, Blaine’s fairly sure he’s supposed to want sex as immediately and as often as he can get it. Or it might have been something else. Maybe he was embarrassing to dance with or he drank too much. He doesn’t remember every detail, but he doesn’t think he said anything too ridiculous or offensive.

Blaine needs to ask Sebastian. It will be incredibly humiliating, but at least he’ll know what he did wrong. He’ll be able to avoid making the same mistake the next time a boy asks him out.

The junior common room is empty except for the two of them, sitting on the couch, wading through their English text. It’s probably the best opportunity Blaine’s going to have. “I’ve been thinking about last week,” Blaine says carefully. “What did you think of it?”

Sebastian shrugs but he closes his book to watch Blaine. “Incredibly provincial, but it’s the best option for a hundred miles.”

“Oh.” Blaine falls silent, and it’s not a good silence. It’s an awkward, embarrassing silence that makes him start to fidget with the pages in his hands.

“You know, I wasn’t joking about the bashful schoolboy thing.” Sebastian grins at him, eyes dark and narrowed, and Blaine can feel the heat rising up his neck. “Super hot.”

“Thank you?” It’s probably not what he’s supposed to say, but at least it’s polite.

“So, Scandals? Friday night? I can’t do the hangover and early classes combination again,” Sebastian says easily.

“Yes, I’d love to,” Blaine says, promising himself that this time he won’t drink as much, and he won’t hog the dance floor, and if Sebastian pins him against the car door again, he’s going to be excited and not scared. He’s not going to pull away, and he’s not going to force Sebastian’s hands to stay in non-threatening places. He’s going to have fun and enjoy himself.

***

It’s not a conversation Kurt particularly wants to have, but he can’t justify not having it. He’s kicking himself that he didn’t pull his phone out at the time and record the messy affair: Mr. Fashion Taste Is for Other People with his tongue down some blond guy’s throat. Then he could have sent an anonymous email to Blaine with proof attached.

Kurt also wishes that Sebastian had the class not to be so indelicate on a public street corner. Then Kurt never would have seen it and Kurt wouldn’t have the unenviable task of knocking on his boss’s boss’s door and saying, “Do you have a minute?”

“As long as it’s about something other than regional circulation figures,” Blaine says, looking over his thick-rimmed burgundy glasses and placing the pages in his hand flat on his desk. “I’m all yours.”

Kurt steps into his office and closes the door behind him. They’re the only two in at this hour: Blaine because he works hard in his job, despite the nepotism that got him there; Kurt because he sleeps better knowing every piece of clothing was hung with the care it deserves. “I wanted to talk about something. Well, hmm, I wanted to tell you something.”

“It’s not a good something,” Blaine surmises gently, gesturing at the low chairs opposite his desk.

“No, not really.” Kurt sits down, and he can feel himself grimacing from the crinkling at the corner of his eyes and the tension in his jaw. He can’t think of any way to make this easier. “I really thought you should know.”

“Are you leaving _Chic_?” Blaine’s expression is serious, and Kurt wonders why he’d jump to that assumption. Then he thinks about seeing the boss after hours, awkward and vaguely guilty by association. He can see why that would make sense.

Blaine continues, “That would be a shame because I’ve heard great things about your work.”

“Really?”

“I’ve also heard that you can be somewhat terrifying and that some people are scared to come between you and any of the Alexander McQueen items,” Blaine says with a quick boyish grin. He might think it’s a joke, but Kurt knows he’s overprotective of the McQueens. He has occasionally threatened to use rusty eating utensils on delicate areas if they come back with so much as a seam torn. “But when it comes to the people who matter, I’ve had good reports.”

“It’s not work-related,” Kurt says, storing away the idea of people reporting good things to the Editor-in-Chief about him. He likes his job. Truthfully, he loves it to an obsessive degree, and he knows he’s good at it. But he didn’t know other people knew that. “It’s about Sebastian.”

Blaine’s dark brows furrow and he taps the end of his pen on his desk. “Sebastian in Accounts? Or… There’s another Sebastian here but I can’t place him. I can picture him but I can’t remember where he works.”

“No, your Sebastian,” Kurt clarifies. Blaine gets this goofy smile on his face that makes Kurt feel ten times worse. “I was walking down the theatre district, running an errand, and I saw him.”

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly.

“He was…” Kurt shrugs. There’s no delicate way to put this. It isn’t a delicate situation. There’s nothing delicate or decorous about turning down 8th Avenue to recognise Sebastian’s tongue halfway down some guy’s throat. Not even a peck on the cheek, not something Kurt could avert his eyes from and pretend he didn’t see. No, Sebastian had to be all but making out with some bleach blond in Broadway audition gear, legwarmers and all. There was even groping involved, but Kurt doesn’t want to mention that. “I was walking by, and I saw him. Kissing someone else.”

“Oh.” It’s a soft little sound, and Blaine looks surprised, then concerned. He looks down, tugging the collar of his navy pinstripe suit. By Blaine Anderson standards, it’s one of his more interesting outfits: the light blue of his block coloured tie drawing attention to the subtle blue pinstripes. “I’m sorry, Kurt. That must have been a really awkward thing to tell me.”

Kurt’s too stunned to say anything. That’s not the right reaction to finding out your boyfriend is cheating on you.

“Sebastian and I have an understanding. An ‘open relationship’ is probably the term for it.” Blaine looks Kurt straight in the eye as if he refuses to be embarrassed about it. Kurt’s a little surprised because, well, Blaine Anderson with his conservative suits and formal manners doesn’t really go hand-in-hand with sleeping around on your boyfriend. Or sex clubs, or swing parties, or whatever it is they do. “We have for years. It’s hardly an appropriate topic at work, but I would have told you if I’d known this was going to happen.”

“I see,” Kurt says. What else can he say? He’d worried about this conversation and rehearsed it in his head, but he never imagined Blaine would effectively nod and agree that cheating is just something Sebastian does. “So you’re fine with this? I needn’t have told you?”

“I appreciate that you did,” Blaine says seriously. “I don’t think most people would.”

***

Blaine’s seen a lot of Disney and watched a lot of porn. He knows his ideas of love are probably childish and naïve, but he still wants that Disney ideal. He wants true love, someone who understands and supports you, and fights to protect you. Judging by his parents’ marriage, consideration and companionship are probably as close as real life gets.

Judging by the porn he’s seen, gay sex seems to be even further from that. YouPorn and InPrivate Browsing are a teenage boy’s best friends, but a lot of it seems to be grunting and thrusting. Blaine’s done too much one-handed surfing to deny that it’s hot, but it seems impersonal. It seems cheap. It’s all close-ups of bodies and holes being filled, and always such cheap, tacky sets. Blaine masturbates to it, very effectively, but he hopes sex is more than that. He doesn’t want his first time to messy and awkward fumbling; he doesn’t want it to be one replaceable body moving against another. He wants romance and promises; he wants it to make him feel special and loved.

His actual first time is somewhere between the two. It’s not really awkward because Sebastian clearly knows what he’s doing. It’s the fourth time they’ve been out to Scandals, and instead of pressing Blaine up against his car, Sebastian waits until they’re sitting inside to kiss him. Blaine likes making out. He likes the strength of Sebastian’s arm around his shoulders, likes the sharp oxygen smell of Sebastian’s cologne; he likes the rough scrape of stubble under the edge of Sebastian’s jaw. He even likes the way Sebastian leans over the console, pushing Blaine back into the seat.

Then Sebastian pulls something near the door and the back of the seat drops down. Another tug and the seat slides backwards, and suddenly Blaine’s lying flat on his back, legs bent, with Sebastian crawling over him and pressing down and still kissing. It goes from hot and exciting to kind of scary, but Sebastian’s right there, mouth pressed over Blaine’s, hands on Blaine’s belt. There’s tugging and pulling, and Blaine freezes. The cotton of Sebastian’s polo shirt feels thick under his palms.

There’s more tugging and the sound of his zipper coming down, and Blaine needs to get over this. Blaine needs to stop freaking out. He wants this. He wants Sebastian, and this is part of having Sebastian. It’s not all flirty glances during rehearsals and hilariously bitchy comments at the bar; it’s not just dancing for hours on a Friday night and a few kisses afterwards. He knew this was coming. He knew it.

Sebastian’s hot and funny and interesting. And he’s interested in Blaine. So Blaine needs to breathe and stop freaking out about something he wants. He needs to open his eyes and enjoy this.

Sebastian drops his forehead to Blaine’s collarbone, looking down as he pulls Blaine free of his underwear. The cold is a shock, and Blaine gasps.

“It’s about to get a lot better,” Sebastian whispers against his neck, mouthing at Blaine’s Adam’s apple. And then he moves his hand and, oh. Oh. It’s nothing like touching himself. It’s hotter and faster and unexpected, no way of knowing how Sebastian’s hand will twist. Blaine’s panting and he can hear the slick slide of Sebastian’s fingers on his cock, and there’s an embarrassing moan that Blaine can’t stop making. Sebastian keeps watching and his hand moves faster, and Blaine’s thrusting his hips up, desperate for more and now and— and—

Blaine makes a mess of Sebastian’s hand and his own shirt, and he’s holding so tight to Sebastian’s back that his fingers hurt. He’s still panting and overwhelmed, and damn. He never thought sex could be like that. He’s jerked off, he knows how good that physical release feels, but it’s so different with someone else. Hands that aren’t yours, and the weight and heat of another body, and it’s all so much more. More uncontrollable and more real. More in every way.

Blaine cracks one eye open to find Sebastian smirking at him. “I know,” Sebastian says, like Blaine asked a question. “I’m good.”

Blaine laughs. He really can’t deny that. So he laughs and kisses Sebastian, and lets Sebastian drag his hand down between them, curling Blaine’s fingers around the soft, hot skin of Sebastian’s cock.

Blaine’s dazed and giddy. He can’t help grinning as Sebastian sets the pace, keeping a tight grip on Blaine’s wrist to keep Blaine’s hand moving, rocking his hips when he needs more. Having his first time in a car might be a cliché, but it’s still awesome.

***

On Saturdays, there are usually a few people working on last-minute stories or struggling for ideas, but on Sundays the office is deserted. Kurt feels confident enough to use his boss’s security code to gain access to the building. He has a worthy cause: he wants to show Dad and Finn around his workplace.

He walks them through the wardrobe section and the back storage. They look about as impressed as Kurt had expected, which is not as impressed as the clothes deserve but still a lot better than most guys from Lima, Ohio would manage. He figures the way to really impress them will be to show them the view from the editors’ floor, so he takes them up.

He’s not expecting Blaine Anderson to be in his office.

Kurt freezes as soon as he sees the light on and the door open, and that familiar head of lacquered dark hair bent over the desk. He tries to gesture at Finn and his dad to back out. Of course Finn knocks into somebody’s desk, propelling a clattering cascade of folders and lever arch files all over the floor.

“Is someone there?” Blaine calls out.

“Just me,” Kurt calls back, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be lucky. Maybe it will buy him enough time to get to the elevator. Maybe Blaine will assume it was one of the female editors here, someone who has any right to be in the building, on this floor, on a Sunday.

“Kurt?” Blaine Anderson, his boss’s boss, can apparently recognise Kurt by voice alone. Being recognised for his voice is not something Kurt ever imagined begrudging, but Blaine Anderson makes a habit of defying Kurt’s expectations.

Blaine steps out, and he’s actually looking rather casual. For once, there’s no navy or charcoal or black; there’s no simple single-breasted suit, knife-crisp shirt collars and neat half-Windsor ties. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt with grey chinos and loafers in a deep, warm burgundy. The cotton shirt is an avocado-shaded ivory crisscrossed with orange and claret. His bowtie is stark diagonal streaks of greens and maroon.

Kurt has to admit that Blaine’s put it together well. Complimenting, not matching. Not every guy can pull off tangerine, but Blaine does. It makes his tan glow and brings out the hazel of his eyes.

Kurt works in the fashion industry. Of course he judges people by their clothes. It doesn’t make him shallow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of a suit,” Kurt says. He hasn’t. He really, truly, honest to god and Lady Gaga, hasn’t. Blaine always comes to the office in a suit. The only concession he makes for casual dress Fridays is to loosen, or occasionally completely remove, his tie. Kurt’s the last person to complain about formality and style in dressing, or to suggest that a baggy t-shirt and faded jeans counts as an outfit in any way, but he might make an exception here.

Blaine’s suits might have hinted at his shoulders, but they didn’t draw attention to the strength of his biceps. They smoothed past the narrow stretch of waist currently defined by a burgundy belt. They didn’t do a thing for the warm depth of his eyes.

“You want to introduce us, Kurt?”

For a moment, Kurt wants to die of embarrassment. He’d forgotten his dad and his brother were here. Even worse, they’re both wearing combinations of denim and flannel without any irony at all. Kurt knows what the rest of the wardrobe department would say if they saw them, but he’s not ashamed of his family. He won’t apologise for them. Instead, Kurt braces himself for a comment barely scraping this side of nasty and introduces everyone.

Blaine smiles as if he’s honestly pleased to meet them. If he’s judging the K-Mart clothes, he doesn’t show it. Blaine even steps forward to shake his dad’s hand when Kurt introduces them by name and explains that they’re visiting from out of state.

Blaine says, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” and “You must be so proud of Kurt,” which of course his dad is. And then, when Blaine should make an excuse and try to run away, he says, “You should see the rooftop gardens while you’re here. It’s the best place to enjoy the view from this building. Come on, I’ll show you.”

***

Blaine meets Sebastian’s mom a few weeks later. The Warblers are performing in Columbus as part of a high school arts showcase. Sebastian’s mom is polite and friendly, the way most parents are, but there’s also a strong similarity to Sebastian. She’s inches taller than Blaine, even wearing flat shoes, and her highlighted caramel brown hair sits high from her forehead and falls to her shoulders. Her eyes are the same colour as Sebastian’s, and while their mouths and chins are completed different, there’s something in the narrowed glint of her eyes that makes Blaine think of Sebastian at his most mischievous.

They have the standard small talk about the performance, the Warblers and classes in general, but Blaine can’t miss that Sebastian introduces him as ‘my friend, Blaine’.

Blaine means to ask him about it, but when they get back to Dalton, Sebastian shrugs and says, “I knew you’d make a good impression on Mom.”

Blaine doesn’t know why he’s surprised. Parents always like him. He’s polite and friendly, and even as a little kid he always shared well and didn’t make a fuss even when it was supposed to be his turn to pick the next game. “You did?”

“Patrick would like you. He’s predisposed to like any Dalton alumni,” Sebastian says, pulling his iPhone out of his pocket. He starts navigating with lazy swipes of his thumb, watching the screen out of the corner of his eye.

It’s the first time Sebastian’s even mentioned his family. Blaine had assumed he was an only child, but he could be wrong. Maybe Sebastian has a brother like Cooper somewhere, someone old enough and different enough you might as well be an only child. “Who’s Patrick?”

“Stepdad. He never comes to these things.” Sebastian looks down at his phone, typing in a quick Facebook update. “Mom tries to make an appearance. You know, when she can.”

“Oh,” Blaine says. “Do you see your dad often?”

“My dad died when I was six. Official story was heart attack,” Sebastian says, shrugging his shoulders as if it doesn’t matter, “but the real story was that he swallowed a bottle of pills. It was quite a scandal in the day. Within a year, Mom married Patrick.”

Blaine knows Sebastian’s not one to get emotional. Sebastian doesn’t go gooey-eyed over pictures of puppies or cry during movies. Not even _Titanic_ , which Blaine finds remarkable. Doesn’t everyone cry at the end of that film?

“Do you get along with Patrick?” Blaine asks carefully. Knowing Sebastian isn’t easily upset is no excuse for being careless or unkind.

Sebastian nods. “Well enough. He loves Mom and he’s happy to give her anything she wants, and part of that is giving me whatever I want. Hence, the Boxster and the latest iPad, trips to Paris and the best schools. It works out for everyone.”

***

After showing Kurt’s family around the roof and not reporting Kurt’s misuse of security codes, Kurt figures a little gratitude may be in order. He means to thank Blaine for his gracious hospitality, but he doesn’t see him for nearly two weeks.

He hadn’t realised how he’d become accustomed to Blaine stopping by the wardrobe department. Kurt keeps expecting him to show up to inspect the Miyaki collection on loan or the collection of this season’s hats.

Blaine’s still working late. His office light is on, shining through the glass walls and murkily illuminating the rest of the open-plan office, but his door stays closed. Every time Kurt passes, Blaine’s staring at the computer as if it holds the location of the Holy Grail. Kurt doesn’t want to interrupt something that’s actually important (Blaine is Editor-in-Chief, after all, so there’s a possibility that his work might be a little more important than a quick hello).

When he runs into Blaine in the break room, topping up his plain, white coffee mug, it seems the perfect time to approach him. “I had a lovely thank you speech prepared because you impressed my dad and because my brother said the roof garden was best thing he’d seen in the city. That’s completely untrue, but Finn’s best quality has never been his sense of taste,” Kurt says, and then remembers he had a point, “but I haven’t seen you around.”

“I’ve been busy.” Blaine’s hair is neat, gelled down to within an inch of its life. His sharp, charcoal three-piece suit is perfectly pressed, proving he’s been home to change, but he doesn’t look like he’s slept. There are shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks look sallow. He looks tired.

“Busier than normal?” Kurt asks, because Blaine’s always busy. He always stays late and he always works hard.

“We need eighty per cent of the annual advertising revenue by the end of the quarter and so far, we have three weeks to go and fifteen per cent of our contracts haven’t been finalised. So busy is an understatement. I’m swamped in quicksand and if we don’t get the revenue, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“In that case, I’ll cut the speech to the essentials,” Kurt replies chirpily. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to play tour guide for my family. In return, let me offer my superior skills as coffee fetcher if you should so need it.”

Blaine’s shoulders slump as he sighs. “That would be so appreciated.” He sounds weary, all the way down to his bones. “I’ll try not to abuse the privilege.”

***

It’s a terrible thing to think, but Blaine hates family dinners. It’s so much easier to love his family when he doesn’t have to sit there and listen to the things they don’t say. That they wish he wasn’t gay. That they wish he was like their friend’s kids. That’s he’s disappointing them just by being who he is.

Blaine has a standing arrangement for dinner every second Saturday, but it’s always awkward. He sits there on his best behaviour and tries to ignore his dad’s comments about giving up singing if he doesn’t have the time to pursue polo or fencing. His mom will talk about family friends and their children, and there’s always some mention of how Jenny’s growing into such a pretty girl or how lovely Simon’s new girlfriend is.

He suggests inviting Sebastian over for dinner out of desperation. Blaine wants one dinner where they don’t hint around his shortcomings, and any company means company manners. When he asks his dad, he hums and won’t agree until Blaine mentions Sebastian’s stepdad by name. It’s a cheap ploy, but the Warblers have Sectionals next week and Blaine doesn’t want to spend the entire dinner defending his choice of extracurricular.

What he really wants is someone on his side. He wants to get through a family dinner without feeling guilty, without feeling obligated to apologise or angry and spiteful. Of course, he’s not expecting that from Sebastian. Blaine can too easily imagine Sebastian arguing that he’d be allowed to drink in France or laughing at his father’s six-year-old Chrysler, his main pride and joy other than Cooper. Blaine doesn’t think the night will be a success, but he’ll settle for company manners.

It’s strange, but the Sebastian that Blaine sees and the Sebastian that the rest of the world sees are sometimes very different people. The Sebastian he knows doesn’t like the term ‘boyfriend’ and refuses to use it. He thinks that the fight for gay marriage is a waste of political focus and that marriage is no longer necessary in this day and age. He has definite ideas about a lot of things, and he isn’t afraid to say any of it.

Despite Sebastian’s distanced relationship with his own parents, despite the fact that he thinks coming out to his family would be a waste of time and needless drama, Sebastian makes a great impression on Blaine’s parents.

The Sebastian that comes home to meet the Andersons is charming and polite. He brings flowers for Blaine’s mom and a bottle of wine for Blaine’s dad, saying his stepdad always says it’s an underrated vintage. He sits at the dinner table and talks calmly about Dalton and the Warblers, future plans for pre-law at Columbia followed by law school at Duke or Harvard. When Blaine’s parents ask if he has a girlfriend, Blaine’s half-hoping and half-terrified Sebastian will point to him and say, “Well, he’s sitting right there.” That’s the kind of thing Sebastian would do at Scandals or Starbucks. But this parent-friendly Sebastian shakes his head and earnestly explains that he doesn’t believe in dating at high school.

“I’ve discussed it with my parents, and we agreed that this isn’t the best time to date. For the next two years, I need to buckle down. You don’t get a second chance to get a good SAT score and get into the right college. It’s unreasonable to pay for a school like Dalton and not make the most of it.”

Blaine’s stunned. This is a boy who goes out to Scandals every week and frequently breaks curfew for groping sessions in his car. He never worries about homework, and he’s never discussed colleges. But his mom and dad buy it completely, smiling at Sebastian in complete approval.

“That’s a very mature attitude,” Blaine’s mom says. “What do you think, Blaine?”

Blaine thinks his parents would be happier if he agreed not to date, and it has nothing to do with his college hopes.

“I keep trying to convince Blaine,” Sebastian says smoothly, saving Blaine from trying to work out what he should say in this surreal situation. “Dating can come later. The opportunities we have right now are too good to waste.”

***

Kurt’s good to his word. After the office has cleared out, when it’s just him and the clothes (they’re doing a spread on this season’s scarves: cobweb thin patterns of lace and cotton, too fine to be anything but art) he knocks on Blaine’s door and asks how he takes his coffee. He gets them from down the street and picks up a cookie or two on instinct. He’s worked late nights before and found the combination of caffeine and sugar is usually necessary.

Blaine looks up when he opens the door. He manages a smile that only looks half-forced. “You really didn’t have to,” he says but he holds onto the cup and breathes deeply. Judging by his expression, true nirvana is the scent of freshly roasted coffee beans.

It’s been weeks now and Blaine still looks tired, still looks run-down and overstretched. Kurt can recognise the look of a man working himself to the ground, and he doesn’t like it. “Are you okay?”

“The revenue dollars came in,” Blaine says over the edge of his cup. “A little above budget, so that’s a relief. The articles for this month have been bedded down, and we’re talking about doing a McQueen retrospective feature for July.”

McQueen retrospective. There will be vintage McQueen couture in his grasp. Kurt has to force himself to breathe. “Really?”

This time, Blaine’s smile nearly reaches his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re on site for that shoot.”

“That would be fantastic. Some of his early stuff was so revolutionary.” Kurt nearly goes into detail, but he stops himself from getting distracted. “But that wasn’t the question.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Blaine says, watching his coffee as he drinks. Kurt stands there, staring over his crossed arms until Blaine adds, “It’s complicated, but it’s fine.”

“Complicated how?”

“I’m just tired. I used to go to meetings and remember this stuff. I’d know this month’s theme and next month’s. I’d know what we had and what we needed. These days, I have to check my notes to be sure. I have to decide on this month’s cover and I used to know this. I’d see which one was more appropriate and now, I don’t care about either of them.” Blaine throws his head back in his chair and lets out a huge sigh.

On a hunch, Kurt asks, “What else?” There’s got to be more than work woes here.

“I like my new apartment, but I hate the tenancy board. The worst thing is that they aren’t bad people. They’re just a certain age, and they clearly think that anyone under thirty must spend all night playing heavy metal and hosting wild parties. I grew up in boarding school! I know how inconsiderate it is to have one person keep everyone awake. I’m not going to burn the building down to the ground if they don’t keep a careful eye on me in the lobby.”

Kurt tries not to smile. He’s not sure if he succeeds. He’s moved places often enough to both sympathise and really, really want to laugh. “Oh, is that all? A bad case of the New Building Blues?”

“It’s everything,” Blaine says feelingly, lifting his head to cast a baleful glare at Kurt. “It’s not being able to find half my CDs and having to remember a new route home. And escrow’s taking forever. I swear, it didn’t take this long to settle when we bought.”

“You’re selling your last place?”

“We had to. We bought it together, so…” Blaine shrugs, trailing off. “I just wish it was done.”

“You broke up with Sebastian?” Kurt hears himself ask. He sounds unfortunately gleeful, but Sebastian’s a tool. Beneath the conservative, dull suits and mild manners, Blaine is a nice guy. He’s a decent guy. He’s kind and considerate, and on the douchebag to dreamboat scale, he deserves someone a lot nicer than Sebastian.

“It was mutual, I guess. I wanted him to stop seeing other people, he wanted to move in with someone else. Clearly, it wasn’t working for either of us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be fine. Eventually. But right now,” Blaine says, “it’s complicated.”

***

Blaine’s parents actively support his friendship with Sebastian. Whenever they call to confirm dinner plans, they always extend the invitation to Sebastian. It’s strange because they’ve never taken much of an interest in Blaine’s friends. Blaine tries to think of it as them showing interest in him and trying to build a relationship with him. Secretly, he thinks they like Sebastian because he convinced Blaine to join the polo team again; if his parents can’t make him straight, making sure he doesn’t do anything that’s actually gay is a consolation prize. They clearly think spending time around Sebastian will stop Blaine from dating or ever bringing a boyfriend home.

Of course, his parents don’t know the main reason Sebastian keeps accepting the dinner invitations. It has nothing to do with the serious discussions of college and the Warblers chances at Regionals, which Sebastian has somehow convinced Blaine’s dad is an honourable and traditional source of school pride. It has everything to do with the drive back to Dalton, the way Sebastian will pull over on a dark road so they can make out for a few hours with parental permission to miss curfew.

Sebastian even manages the impossible and gets Blaine out of going to the annual Anderson Christmas party. Every year, Blaine’s parents make him attend noisy parties full of relatives he’s not allowed to be himself around. Last year, he tried to talk his way out of it by claiming that he needed to study and had all but begged to stay at Dalton for the holidays. It hadn’t worked.

But over dinner, Sebastian mentions that he’ll be skiing in Aspen with his family over the break. “I know Christmas is a family time,” Sebastian says smoothly, smiling at Blaine’s mom, “but I wanted to ask if Blaine could come with us for the week. We have a chalet up there, nothing too fancy but the skiing’s wonderful.”

“Have you discussed this with your parents?” Blaine’s mom asks. She looks like she’s actually considering it. Blaine has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning in excitement.

“Yes, I have. They thought it was a wonderful idea for me to have company my own age. If you agree, my parents are happy to pay for the airfare and rental costs for any snow gear needed. Or Blaine might fit into some of my old things,” Sebastian adds, smiling at Blaine like that wasn’t a joke about his height.

Not that Blaine cares. Blaine likes tilting his head up when they kiss. He likes reaching up to wrap his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders. He likes the way Sebastian leans down, and how Sebastian will sometimes grab one of Blaine’s thighs and pull it up against his hip so Blaine has to rock closer for balance.

“In that case,” his father says as Blaine blinks and really hopes he isn’t blushing, “I think that would be a wonderful experience for Blaine.”

What Sebastian doesn’t mention to his parents is that his mom and stepdad only stay for the first night. They stock the kitchen with food and give Sebastian a credit card for any costs, and then fly over to Luxembourg. Blaine’s not sure if it’s for business or pleasure, but he doesn’t care. They get to spend the entire week alone. They ski for a few hours each day, so Blaine will be able to tell his parents something about the trip, but at night they go out to restaurants and clubs that don’t ask for ID. They drink and dance, and then spend the night together on Sebastian’s queen-sized bed.

The first night it feels so daring to undress each other, to lie under the covers in nothing but boxers. It’s such a heady feeling to have Sebastian’s weight above him, pressing him down into the bed, the heat of bare skin sliding against each other. But they’re teenage boys with no supervision, no chance of interruption, and things move quickly. The second night, the boxers are gone and it’s Sebastian above him, hot and hard against Blaine’s hip. The third night, Sebastian brushes kisses down Blaine’s chest and stomach and doesn’t stop until his mouth is on Blaine’s cock. Blaine doesn’t last long, but he’s better on the fourth night and he reciprocates on the fifth, lips stretched around latex and mouth full, Sebastian’s hands cupping his cheek and the back of his head, guiding him and whispering filthy things.

The sixth night, there’s lube on the bedside table and Blaine’s not entirely surprised when Sebastian pushes his thighs apart and then presses, pushing fingers inside him. It’s odd and uncomfortable, but it’s not painful. Sebastian keeps saying how good he looks like this, how hot Blaine is, and tells him to relax. It’s not bad. It’s not like Sebastian forces him into anything or tries to hurt him, but it’s sharp and too much when Sebastian pushes in. And when Sebastian moves, Blaine feels like he can’t breathe. It’s too intense. He feels like he’s going to split apart, but he still comes when Sebastian reaches down between them and jerks him off. It takes Sebastian a while to come, and it’s kind of weird and kind of awkward to lie there with Sebastian panting against his shoulder and pulling Blaine’s knee up to thrust harder.

But it’s not bad. It’s just… a first time. Most things are a little messy and uncomfortable the first time. Blaine’s sure the first time he kissed Sebastian it was far from great, but now he knows how to make Sebastian groan and hold him tight. He knows how to breathe through his nose and suck on Sebastian’s tongue and catch Sebastian’s lower lip between his teeth. He’ll get better at this too.

At least Sebastian doesn’t say he was horrible. Sebastian pulls out and gets rid of the condom, returns with a washcloth and tells Blaine that he’s so hot, that he’s so sexy, and how good it felt to be inside him. Well, what Sebastian actually says is “to be buried inside that incredible ass of yours,” and Blaine doesn’t know what to say to that.

“You’re so hot when you blush,” Sebastian says, running cool fingers down Blaine’s too-warm cheek.

“I just,” Blaine starts, shaking his head and amazement. “I can’t believe some of the things you say.”

Sebastian grins. “You should. They’re all true.”

Blaine’s sure Sebastian’s exaggerating. It wouldn’t have been so… It would have been better if Blaine knew what he was doing, if he had any experience. How appealing can it be to have an awkward, fumbling boyfriend? But Sebastian kisses him and says, “You know what’s unbelievable? That you have no idea how hot you are.”

Maybe it’s an exaggeration. Maybe it’s only a polite social lie, but Blaine chooses to believe it.

***

He’s not Blaine Anderson’s friend. They hardly run in the same social circles or see each other outside of work, but Kurt plays Good Samaritan. He stops by Blaine’s office a little more frequently. He brings coffees and the occasional muffin and asks how everything’s going.

Blaine usually smiles and gives him an update on the sale of the apartment or some detail about his new building. From the description, the tenancy board is ruled with the iron fist of three dowagers in their seventies, none of whom seem charmed by Blaine.

Blaine still looks bad: his complexion is pale in the ‘dying of consumption’ way, and the shadows under his eyes seem permanent. If anything, his clothing gets more conservative: black suits with white shirts, all simple classic cuts, paired with dark ties. He looks drained, but he says he’s fine. Kurt takes him at his word.

Or he does until Blaine comes storming back into the office after nine at night, eyes narrowed and so angry that it might be possible for looks to kill. It’s been a hectic week, and the shooting schedule’s been changed three times since Monday, so Kurt’s on the editors’ floor making sure his version of the schedule is up to date. The whole purpose of Wardrobe is to be ready for every shoot, every piece prepared, every accessory gathered. If he gets the shooting schedule mixed up, it will be chaos.

He’s not expecting Blaine to come thundering through the empty office space. He’s not expecting to be so concerned by the sight. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Blaine stops at the question. He’d clearly thought he was alone.

“What happened is I have friends who—” Blaine says, scrubbing both hands through his hair and turning into a thickly gelled mess. “No. You know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your problem, Kurt. I appreciate the interest, but this is so far beyond your job description. Just do what everybody else does, okay? When I say I’ll be fine, just take it at face value.”

Blaine strides into his office and closes the door behind him. This is the moment where a casual acquaintance would leave. It’s not any of Kurt’s business. It’s really not, but when has he let that stop him?

So maybe this is where his friendship with Blaine Anderson starts: when Kurt pushes open the steel and glass door and says, “Tell me what happened.”

Blaine frowns at him, toys with the silver pen set on his desk. “It was nothing, really. Dinner party at a friends’ place. I expected Sebastian to be there, but I would have appreciated a warning that he was bringing someone.”

Kurt steps inside and lets the door close behind him. “You sound like you need a breakup sleepover,” he says, and Blaine looks completely confused. “You need to spend the night with a friend, have a few wines and eat some cheesecake. Watch bad movies, put on a mud mask and talk about how all men are jerks.”

“Sebastian’s not—” Blaine says, but it seems out of habit. He shakes his head and says, “It sounds nice.”

“So you’ll do it?”

Again, Blaine shakes his head. “I have friends who throw dinner parties and have season tickets to the Met. We’ll make plans to have dinner somewhere new and exclusive, and discuss stock options and politics and if war can ever be justified. I have friends who have always known us as Sebastian-and-Blaine, and it’s not fair to ask them to pick sides. Sebastian and I agreed we wouldn’t make things awkward for everyone.”

“That’s great for Sebastian. I think you need someone on your side, someone who can be biased and unfair, and tell you that you deserve so much better than some loser who didn’t appreciate you.”

“I just need time, Kurt. Eventually, this will feel better. It has to.”

Kurt could leave it there. He could walk away and leave this uptight, underappreciated man to wallow. Instead, he tells him, “You’re wrong. You’re coming home with me,” and refuses to leave until Blaine agrees.

He knows he made the right decision when Blaine chooses _Titanic_ from Kurt’s shelves. As a breakup film, that choice usually means you need a good cry. Kurt pulls over tissues, and he’s expecting Blaine to fall apart by the end. But before the ship’s started sinking, Kurt catches the liquid glimmer on Blaine’s cheek. Blaine’s sitting so still, not even moving to wipe away the proof. It’s as if he thinks pretending he’s okay will be enough to make it true.

Maybe Kurt’s friendship with Blaine Anderson really starts from this moment: sitting side by side, watching Blaine stare determinedly at the screen as if there weren’t tears slipping down. It’s barely even a conscious decision to curl fingers around Blaine’s shoulder and tug him closer. It’s instinctual. It’s just the urge to comfort someone in distress, to hold them close and smooth a hand along their back, and whisper reassuring, nonsense sounds. “It’s going to be okay,” Kurt says softly, “you’ll see. It hurts now but it’ll be okay.”

Blaine’s breath catches, chest hitching, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t fight the embrace. He stays there, forehead to Kurt’s collarbone, letting himself be held.

***

“What? No invitation to family dinner?” Sebastian asks dryly when Blaine gets off the phone.

There was an invitation, but Blaine’s not sure he wants Sebastian to come. “Cooper’s going to be there,” Blaine says. He hates what his family becomes when Cooper’s home. The stories become all about Cooper, all the time, and Blaine’s expected to sit there like a quiet admiring fan. If he tries to contribute anything to the conversation that isn’t mindless fawning, Cooper will say that singing in a school choir is nothing like performing professionally or his dad will say how well Cooper’s doing for himself and how Blaine needs to be more focused.

It would be nice to have Sebastian there as a buffer between him and his parents, but Blaine knows what happens when people meet Cooper. Cooper’s confident and attractive, but more than that, he knows how to sell his own talents. He impresses people.

“He can’t be any more boring than your parents,” Sebastian says, turning his attention back to his laptop.

Blaine has his doubts, but he still invites Sebastian. Sebastian’s as charming as ever, getting along better with Blaine’s parents than Blaine does. He greets Cooper with a firm handshake and asks all the typical questions about how Cooper got into acting and where he finds inspiration. As if playing a corpse on CSI requires inspiration.

For most of the meal, Blaine sits and eats. He’s all but ignored by the rest of them. He shouldn’t feel relieved by that, but he does.

“God, your brother,” Sebastian says under his breath as soon as they're alone in the kitchen.

“Yeah, Cooper,” Blaine says like he agrees. Blaine's used to being Cooper's little brother. He knows people tend to be impressed by Blaine, right up until the moment they meet Cooper. Then there are fabulous stories of Cooper's acting career and embarrassing childhood stories about Blaine, and everyone wants to tell him how wonderful it must be to have a brother like Coop.

He’d been expecting this reaction. He takes comfort in the fact that even if Sebastian thinks his brother is smarter and hotter and better than Blaine in every way, Blaine’s still the one he’ll be kissing at the end of the night.

He's not expecting Sebastian to add, “Could he be any more full of himself? Really?”

“You don't think he's talented?”

Sebastian snorts, and shoots Blaine a long-suffering look. “You're ten times as talented as he is, and you're not impractical enough to consider an acting career.”

Blaine hasn’t considered any career. He studies hard and he wants a good SAT score so he’ll have choices, but his future is a grey blur of potential that he mostly ignores. “Cooper's kind of well-known.”

“From one commercial. He's as much of a star as the TicTac girl.”

“That’s not what people usually say,” Blaine says. Nobody looks at the Anderson brothers and prefers Blaine. Nobody looks at Cooper and Blaine together, and thinks Blaine’s the talented one. “You really think I’m more talented?”

“I wouldn’t be singing backup in two competition songs if I didn’t know you’re our best chance of winning. Of course you’re more talented than that self-obsessed hack.” They’re standing in his parents’ kitchen, stacking plates into the dishwasher, but Sebastian sneaks a hand around to swat at Blaine’s hip. It’s quick and cheeky, and Sebastian grins at him. “You’re sexier, too.”

***

It becomes a semi-regular occurrence for Kurt to drag Blaine home and let him crash on Kurt’s couch. There aren’t any tears after that first night, but Kurt insists upon a glass of wine and a justifiably small slice of cheesecake as he introduces Blaine to the time-honoured tradition of bitching about one’s ex. At first, Blaine seems shocked, like it goes against a gentleman’s code of conduct, but he gets the hang of it.

Kurt finds out a few interesting facts. Like that Blaine had proposed in their last year of college and Sebastian had laughed, brushing it off as a joke. “He later suggested buying the apartment together,” Blaine says, licking a squashed bit of cheesecake off his thumb. “A practical form of commitment.”

Blaine tells him about buying the apartment, about the spare bedroom that’s only used to give Sebastian’s parents plausible deniability. “Not that they ever stayed with us,” Blaine says wryly, but his eyes are soft and hurt. “We’d offer, but they’d always have a suite booked somewhere.”

“They really thought the two of you bought together as friends? Because setting up a home together is something straight guys do all the time,” Kurt drawls.

“They thought we were being sensible and getting into the real estate market. Even my parents bought that line, and I came out to them at fourteen.” Blaine shrugs, shifting on the couch and wriggling until he’s comfortable. “But they’ve always been in this weird denial phase. It’s fine to say I’m gay as long as they can pretend I’ve never kissed a guy.”

Eventually, Blaine even tells Kurt about confronting Sebastian. The final straw hadn’t been the public make-out session or Kurt raising the topic at work. It had been about a week-long fact-finding mission for his current case. Sebastian had claimed he’d be too busy with work for Blaine to come with him, and then Sebastian had taken another guy. “He’s twenty, I swear it,” Blaine says, putting the cheesecake down to reach for his glass of red wine, “twenty and blond, and in a chorus line, and he sounds like he comes from old New England money. I know none of that should make a difference. It’s still someone who isn’t me, but I really wish he wasn’t twenty.”

“You’re absolutely allowed to hate the ex’s new boyfriend,” Kurt says. “In fact, I would actively encourage it.”

“It’s petty,” Blaine says, as if breakups should be honourable. As if being well-mannered should be a goal in and of itself.

“Your heart gets broken, you’re going to be hurt and angry. And you might as well direct that to your ex rather than the rebound guy.”

“Rebound guy? I don’t think there’ll be a rebound guy,” Blaine says. His jacket’s hung up in the hall closet and his grey waistcoat is still neatly buttoned up, but his tie is loose and his collar buttons are undone. His cufflinks are sitting on the table, and his shirtsleeves are pushed up to the elbow, white cotton cuffs circling toned forearms. It’s simultaneously casual and formal: a man comfortable with fitted pieces and traditional silhouettes relaxing at the end of the day.

Kurt gives him an exaggerated once-over. “Oh, I’m pretty sure there’ll be a rebound guy. I don’t think you’ll have trouble there.”

“You think?”

“You don’t?”

Blaine shrugs. “I don’t even know how you ask a guy out. I’ve never had to. I’ve been with Sebastian since our junior year, and I don’t think asking someone for homework help is going to work now.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s still pretty simple: meet a guy you like, ask him out to dinner,” Kurt says easily. Blaine talks about Sebastian as if Sebastian’s always been there, so Kurt figured they’d gotten together at college, maybe even freshman year. But the mention of homework is making him wonder. “You got together in high school?”

“Another few years and I would have literally been with Sebastian half my life.” Blaine takes a deep gulp of wine and then shakes his head. “I always thought that would be it. I thought it was special that I was still with the first and only boy I’d ever kissed. I know it’s sappy and naïve, but I thought we were meant to find each other. I thought we could withstand anything.”

“It’s not naïve. It’s sweet,” Kurt says firmly. It’s far sweeter than he’d expected from Blaine, if he’s honest. Kurt made judgements based on his choice of boyfriend and approach to fidelity, but Blaine is a much nicer guy than Kurt assumed. “Wait, the only guy? What happened to the open relationship?”

Blaine plays with his glass, swirling the dark red wine as he talks. “We agreed to the terms, and the option was there if I wanted to, but… I never did. It wasn’t my ideal.”

“Oh,” Kurt says softly and he takes a good second look at Blaine Anderson: hair too neat, smile a little too self-deprecating, heart too bruised. For a moment, Kurt thinks he’d make a move if Blaine wasn’t still hung up on his ex. But he is and he needs a friend the way Kurt needs couture in his life, so Kurt won’t flirt or suggest anything more. “What is your ideal?”

“Right now, another glass of that sauvignon,” Blaine says, pretending to pout at the empty bottle sitting on Kurt’s coffee table. “But eventually, hmmm. Someone who doesn’t make me feel like being idealistic is the same as being ridiculous. Someone who doesn’t want me to lie to their parents and doesn’t need to sleep with other people. I want a guy who doesn’t make me feel like I’m not enough.”

“You deserve it.”

***

Sebastian’s been his boyfriend for nearly seven months. Or it’s more accurate to say the relationship has lasted that long, since Sebastian would never agree to be Blaine’s ‘boyfriend’. Sebastian hates the term. He has a whole diatribe on hetero-normative traditions and sanitising gay relationships by forcing them into acceptable terms. Blaine nods along, but it kind of confuses him. Despite spending hours on Google reading queer theory, Blaine’s still not entirely sure he agrees with it. But it’s just one more thing he doesn’t quite understand about Sebastian.

Blaine doesn’t understand how someone can be so bold and flirtatious, and not be out to his parents. He doesn’t understand why making out in the parking lot of Scandals is okay but holding hands in school corridors is verboten. Blaine once tried the compromise of reaching for Sebastian’s hand in a coffee shop and Sebastian rolled his eyes, saying, “This isn’t some Tom Hanks rom com,” as if Blaine was being ridiculous.

Blaine goes to an all-boys school and he’s never seen his friends with their girlfriends in the corridors. For all he knows, Sebastian’s right: holding hands is something that only happens on TV shows. Maybe Sebastian’s right about coming out to his family, too. Maybe all it does is make them see you as The Gay Son and forget that you’re still the same person you always were. Maybe Blaine should have expected the awkward silences he gets from his parents.

So they’re not out as a couple at school, because Sebastian likes his Porsche Boxster and his iPad and he might lose those if his stepdad finds out. Sebastian says his mom would probably understand, but Patrick’s conservative and traditional. He grew up with different attitudes and you can’t teach old dogs new tricks. Sebastian says it doesn’t matter. They won’t live around their parents for the rest of their lives, so why fight the battles that can’t be won?

There are unexpected bonuses to the situation. Like halfway through the year when Sebastian’s roommate transferred. Their co-ordinator had approved Blaine moving to Sebastian’s dorm room on the basis of sharing common interests and supporting the Warblers. The real reason was Sebastian’s cramped car seats and the opportunity to stretch out on a bed, but Blaine doesn’t think the moving application would have been approved on that basis.

But Blaine doubts all those reasons when he comes home early from visiting his parents and finds Sebastian in bed with another guy. Blaine doesn’t recognise him, so he’s not on the polo team or a Warbler. And they’re not in bed so much as sitting on Sebastian’s bed with the unknown guy straddling Sebastian’s lap. They’re still mostly dressed, but Blaine can see the hurried movements of Sebastian’s arm, can see where his hand is trapped between them.

Blaine slams the door shut and runs to the end of the hallway. He turns the corner and slows down to something imitating normal. He keeps walking. He doesn’t want to be in his room and he doesn’t want to talk to Sebastian, and if he went to any of the common rooms, even the Warbler common room, people would ask. And what could he say?

My secret boyfriend is apparently secret boyfriends with someone else? I think he wanted this to be a secret so he could keep hooking up with other guys? It sounds ridiculous. No one would believe him.

He can’t say that he walked in to find his roommate making out with a guy because he’s very much out at Dalton; nobody would believe he’d find that offensive. He might be surprised but he wouldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t explain fighting back tears and feeling the urge to hit something right now.

So Blaine walks the hallways until he can calm down, until he can stop blinking furiously and can breathe around the ache in his chest. That’s the trick of Dalton: if you look busy and motivated, people won’t interrupt. Blaine keeps walking as purposely as he can, watching the floors as he goes so he doesn’t have to make eye contact with anyone.

He waits until dinner time, when most of Dalton’s population is seated and waiting to be served their evening meal, and then goes back to his room. He doesn’t have a plan of what to do next, but it doesn’t matter. Sebastian’s waiting for him when he opens the door.

Sebastian’s sitting on Blaine’s bed, wearing a long-suffering expression of patience. “I was wondering when you’d come back. Even for you, that exit was a bit dramatic.”

Blaine has never hit someone outside of a boxing ring, but he feels his fists clench. “I caught you cheating on me. In our room. You could at least have the decency to break up with me first, before—”

“Why would I want to break up with you?” Sebastian asks, talking through Blaine like he does when he thinks Blaine’s opinion isn’t worth listening to. “I love you.”

It’s unfair for Sebastian to say that now. He doesn’t say those words. He calls Blaine hot, sexy or cute. He’ll tease Blaine for being bashful or naïve. He’ll say he likes Blaine, but Sebastian’s only said ‘I love you’ a handful of times, and it’s always been during sex. Blaine wasn’t sure if those even counted.

“So this was one bad decision? Just a mistake?” Blaine thinks he might be able to forgive that. If it was just once, maybe it’s not so bad. Everybody makes mistakes now and then.

Sebastian laughs at him, softly and under his breath. He shakes his head gently, and Blaine knows that expression. Sebastian does it when he thinks Blaine’s said something parochial again, something childish and naïve, that it’s adorable that Blaine doesn’t realise how ridiculous he’s being. It’s an expression that makes Blaine feel four inches tall.

“We never said we were exclusive, Blaine.”

“What?”

“I’m not cheating on you. We never agreed to be exclusive.”

It’s true. They never discussed it. Blaine hadn’t realised it was something that needed to be negotiated. He’d thought that going out to Scandals every weekend and sharing a dorm room, going to coffee shops after school and taking day trips to Columbus on the weekends, he thought that meant something. “I assumed we were.”

“I assumed we weren’t,” Sebastian says gently. “God, Blaine, we’re teenagers. I love you, I do, but I’m not crazy about the idea of spending the rest of my life sleeping with only one person. I don’t see the point.”

“You don’t see the point,” Blaine repeats. “Of monogamy?”

“Of defining the strength of a commitment purely on sex. Shouldn’t it be more important that I care about you?”

It should be more important. Blaine keeps thinking about Sebastian saying ‘the rest of my life’ as if it’s obvious. As if there’s no question that they’ll last. “Maybe,” Blaine allows hesitantly. Sebastian’s always been more physical than Blaine is, always wants more and faster and now, and sometimes Blaine feels like he doesn’t want sex as much as he should. Maybe it was unrealistic to assume he’d be enough for Sebastian. Having a boyfriend who wants to say, “Wait,” and “Slower,” who sometimes freezes and needs reassurance isn’t ideal. Maybe this is Sebastian finding a way to keep the relationship working.

It might not be permanent. Teenagers are supposed to have uncontrollable libidos. Maybe if Blaine’s patient and lets Sebastian have other guys while he needs them, maybe the rest of their lives wouldn’t involve anyone in their bed but them.

“Want me more than others, not exclusively,” Sebastian croons gently, and that’s what does it. That’s what convinces Blaine. Blaine was talking about Broadway love songs a few days ago, and even though Sebastian’s not a huge fan, he listened along when Blaine found the clips on YouTube. He listened because Blaine cared about it and Sebastian cared about Blaine.

That’s more important. It must be.

***

It takes weeks, but Blaine starts to look better. The bruises under his eyes fade, but there’s still that bitter cut of heartbreak on his face. There’s an edge of sadness to Blaine’s most polite smiles, and times when he’ll stop and stare at something sitting on his desk in the shocked fugue of a funeral mourner.

It takes months, but eventually Kurt stops seeing that grief-stricken expression. Blaine’s colour returns and better than that, a little bit of colour starts sneaking into his wardrobe. At first, it’s subtle: a pearlescent pink shirt worn beneath a charcoal jacket, the sheen of colour so understated it could easily be overlooked. Then there’s a flash of scarlet enamel on cufflinks, but they spend most of the day hiding under the cuffs of Blaine’s grey pinstripe jacket. Then a silk tie in solid cornflower blue worn with stark black suit, the demanding lines of the jacket so nicely juxtaposed with the softness of the colour and fabric. The first time Kurt sees that, he has to pinch himself in case it’s a daydream. Blaine looks too good to be true.

Then Blaine wears a bowtie into the office on Friday. It’s not the bowtie itself: a bright shock of emerald green. It’s the dependable navy suit paired with a Bengal striped shirt in aquamarine. It’s the light summer fun of the shirt bringing life to the navy; it’s the contrast pop of colour of the green bowtie and matching pocket square. It’s classy and traditional, but the colour is bold and vibrant, full of youthful enthusiasm.

“Let me get a camera,” Kurt says as soon as he sees Blaine. He knows there’s an old instamatic somewhere around here. If he can’t find it, he’ll use his phone. “This look needs to be immortalised.”

“Is it too much?” Blaine looks worried, which is ridiculous when he’s standing there, all gorgeous and perfectly put-together.

“Are you kidding?” Kurt rushes around the other set of drawers, pulling things open and searching for that camera. He finds it at the bottom of a pile of old newspaper clippings and pulls it out. He starts checking it over, and then takes a shot as practice.

Blaine’s staring in the mirror, one finger moving over the edge of his bowtie’s knot. “Sebastian always said I was like a five-year-old with a new box of paints. Left to my own devices, he swore I’d dress like a clown.”

“Say cheese,” Kurt calls out and Blaine does, smiling wide for the camera even though he still looks unsure. Kurt walks around him and takes another shot and another, until he’s waving two hands full of Polaroids. He’s already thinking of talking to his boss about this, doing a spread on colour in the workplace, how to be fun while staying professional. “Don’t be ridiculous. You look incredible.”

“You think?”

“I know. Believe me, if there’s one thing I know, it’s fashion. Ignore any guy whose eveningwear staple is Armani.”

Blaine’s forehead crumples adorably. “What’s wrong with Armani?” he asks seriously, but before Kurt can explain in a great deal of detail, he adds, “I’m glad you like it.”

“Well, I am the epitome of good style and taste.” Kurt smiles, watching the Polaroids turn into photos. There’s something about the composition of a Polaroid photograph, the light or the blurred background, something that makes it feel homey and reliable. They’re not professional shots, not by a large margin, but Blaine looks incredible in all of them. “My opinion matters.”

“I wanted to make a good impression,” Blaine says. “I went to school with one of the owners of Swallow, so I have a table reserved at eight tonight. And hopefully a first date, assuming he says yes. I’m a bit nervous.”

“I’m sure he’ll agree, especially when you look that good,” Kurt says, not looking away from his hands. He keeps himself distracted by the photos in his hands, by the idea of colourful accessories and which ties they’d use. He wants Blaine to date and be happy and find a nice guy – and anyone compared to Sebastian would be a nice guy – but he wasn’t prepared to hear about it so soon. “It’s a good choice of restaurant. Everyone’s saying that place is great.”

“You haven’t been?”

“The reservation waitlist is five weeks long,” Kurt says, trying not to be bitter that nepotism has once again worked for Blaine Anderson. “I haven’t had time yet.”

“Would you like to? I mean, tonight. With me. Um,” Blaine says, blinking rapidly at Kurt before opening and closing his mouth. “When I rehearsed this at home, I was a lot smoother.”

“You rehearsed asking me out?”

“Well, yeah,” Blaine says with a comical grimace. “I haven’t done this, ever, and you’re…”

“Yes?”

“Gorgeous. And kind. Funny and protective, and maybe you were just being a Good Samaritan. Maybe I’m not your type and you don’t see me like that at all, but I had to try. So, will you go out to dinner with me tonight?”

“Yes,” Kurt says, without an instant’s hesitation, and Blaine grins at him. “But I’ll meet you there. I have to go home and change.”  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Suit and Tie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/759687) by [toomuchgawking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchgawking/pseuds/toomuchgawking)




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